Medical Records and 2007

I sometimes compare 2007 to a traumatic amputation. I mean no disrespect to those who have actually lost a limb because my loss is slight in comparison, but in 2006 I was the equivalent of driving along minding my own business. I took 2007 for granted – next year had always been there and I had always thought it would. Then December 7 came along and a whole year of my life was gone. How did that happen? A puff and a cloud and it’s gone. I could draw the metaphor out talking about phantom pains and 12 steps of coping or however many steps it takes.
I think I’ve found a metaphor that is better though, and even though I sometimes doubt it I know it is true. There were quite a few things the Navy gave me to do in preparation for renting me out to the Army (no, not that metaphor) many of which included medical exams (no metaphor there either). So I checked out my medical record and went and got shots and filled forms out, etc. On January 1 the family drove down to Norfolk for check-in. I had all of my paperwork in my backpack, and when I showed up the next day to get all of the same shots again and fill out all of the same forms a second time my medical record was gone. Not just gone. It was G-O-N-E. That’s not something you want to lose because it is important to you the person, not just you the sailor. I searched everywhere and even called up and asked Koichi to check out my office. I had Tim search my house. I called the Medical Clinic in Annapolis to see if it was there. It was gone. All I could figure was that it had fallen out of my backpack when I stopped for gas. To this day I do not know where it went. They made me a new one in Norfolk, but I have never really felt like it was mine.
Part of applying to medical school with the Navy is filing what is called a contingent resignation which is required because the Navy drops you in rank. Part of the contingent resignation is sending in some forms that are in your medical record, but not in your hastily assembled record made so that you can deploy on time. These forms are in your real medical record that you’ve had since July 1, 1997, when you were just a little plebe. They want to know about the real medical you, not some fake medical you that was contrived in Norfolk a couple of months ago. When I checked with the Rusty medical staff, they said I would have to find a way to get to the Green Zone to go to the big hospital so that I could get all of the tests done so I could get the right forms filled out – this is not an easy prospect. Besides, I don’t like the idea of riding around Baghdad, and who wants to get blown up after successfully passing a physical? Not this guy, for sure.
I called Hawaii, where these forms had originally been filled out, and they said they had them electronically. The corpsman was actually very willing and helpful when I called him on Saturday (he was on duty), but alas he has not come through. This was starting to be stressful since Navy Bureaucracy has set a deadline on when my contingency resignation must be filed, and Navy Bureaucracy makes no exceptions, even for people that Navy has lent to the Army. Bureaucracy yields to no man when it has the tonnage to run him under, which Navy Bureaucracy has tonnage to spare. On a lark I decided to call the clinic in Annapolis to see if they could help, and the guy there tells me they have my medical record. I still tilt my head and blink when I think about it. The corpsman who I talked to had a mastery of phone skills that complemented the poor phone connection so I did not get the story of why my medical record was where it belonged. (In his defense he was new, and like most corpsman probably wouldn’t have thought it was odd for a medical record to be stored in the medical records vault, so I didn’t pursue the question.) He was very helpful and emailed me all of the forms I needed.
I have never been one to comment on the silver lining when there is a dark cloud to mention, and 2007 has had plenty of dark cloud. Tonight will be the exception that proves the rule, a turn of phrase which I find vacuous and am ashamed to have written. I’m convinced that somehow my medical record is a better picture of 2007 than getting a limb blown off, although I can’t explain how. Maybe how will never be known, but who is certain. When you have a miracle like a lost medical record showing up exactly when you need the forms that you can’t get any other way, then only a fool could doubt that a whole year could be lost forever.